A not so simple Saturday Starbucks.

Today went a little something like this:

Wake up, devour pb and banana. Lounge around in bed reading Fall of Giants for 20 minutes 2 hours. Do legs, back and abs workout. Get clean. Enjoy an egg sandwich which I slaved over only to drop on the kitchen floor (5 second rule!). Decide today is a Starbucks sort of day and catch the bus downtown. Have good times with a chocolate smoothie, sudoku, texting and fundraising planning. Go outside to wait for the bus back home (and here's where it gets fun, folks).

Suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, a blizzard arrives. Suddenly, the temperature drops from -1 C to something much, much colder. The wind starts blowing the falling snow directly into the bus shelter, down my neck and into my handbag. My bus transfer disintegrates into tiny pieces in said bag. The bus, I had confirmed, was scheduled to arrive a mere 7 minutes after I arrived at the stop. Half an hour and several other busses later, it is still nowhere in sight. Another ten minutes pass. Meanwhile, the father and his two children in the bus stop are starting to get upset. The boy is bawling and keeps telling dad he "feels real bad". The girl is screaming and refuses to be set down. Dad says, "I know how you feel. I'm cold too." Five minutes. Finally, the bus emerges out of the white. The four of us are elated. The crying stops and we get on the bus. The bus driver mercifully nods at my soggy pieces of transfer ticket and I take a seat. Feeling returns to my fingers and toes. I am now hungry, so I'm glad I had the wisdom and foresight to purchase this:

(cookie inside)

The bus route diverges from the main roads to take a tour of suburbia, on the other side of the expressway from more suburbia where I live. We head down between the rows of houses, and someone pulls the bell for a stop. A woman gets off. We start to pull forward when the bus lurches sideways and abruptly the lights go off, accompanied by the sound of a buzzer. This only lasts a minute, but when the driver turns the lights back on and starts trying to move the bus forward again, it is apparent that we are stuck in the snow. The driver rocks the bus back and forth a few times before being convinced of its futility, and opens the doors of the bus. He gets out, walks around, inspects. Several passengers follow him out, but when their offers to help push are rejected, they return inside to sit down, dripping into their seats. Some abandon ship altogether, and set out into the storm. The driver gets salt out of a compartment in the bus, and heads outside again. While he is outside, the little boy who complained of being sick in a bus stop proves he's for real. He starts retching, which rapidly turns into throwing up into the plastic department store bag his dad is carrying. Despite the wind and snow blowing into the open doors of the bus, the bus begins to smell. Several other passengers get off the bus. I am lost in this side of suburbia, and at least a half hour's walk from home. I have no hat or scarf. So, despite my paralyzing fear of vomit, I somehow manage to maintain my cool and stay on the bus. 

Twenty or so minutes elapse. The driver goes in and out, alternating salt-depositing with rocking the bus and calling our situation in on his radio. Rock, rock, repeat. We move forward. We get stuck again. The family and sick child get off the bus. The window I am sitting beside seems to have sprung a leak of some kind and cold water is sprinkling down on my knees and phone. Another fifteen minutes. Finally, miraculously, with the power of cursing and with four people left on the bus, we start moving forward. We cheer jubilantly! And five hours after I set out for a protein smoothie, I arrive safely back home.

Nature, my plan for you tomorrow is sunshine. No more snow. I want to run, not shuffle and slide my way through a 12k. While I'm pipe-dreaming, can I also ask that it be spring now?